


Requiem For Methuselah: Revisited

by Fenix21



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Episode: s03e21 Requiem For Methuselah, M/M, Mind Meld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 07:37:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4011319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fenix21/pseuds/Fenix21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A different take on the episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Requiem For Methuselah: Revisited

“You saw what was happening!  You knew how it would end!”

The Captain’s shoulders shook in anger at Flint’s betrayal.

“You kept us together.  Rayna and me.  Because you knew that I would…love her.”  Kirk looked down at Rayna, his chest constricting at the realization of the horrible truth that stared at him through those dark, beautiful…inhuman, eyes.  “And now you’re just going to take over?”  His voice was all fury and disbelief.

”She is mine, Captain.  I created her.  I loved her.  I gave her life!  All that she is she owes to me.  And I will _have her!”_ Flint retaliated.

Kirk ignored Flint’s tirade.  His eyes were for Rayna alone.  “I can’t love her…I _can’t_ love her!”  He reached out and touched her cheek, his heart leaping uncomfortably as she hesitantly nuzzled the backs of his knuckles as they traced down her jaw line.  “But I _do_ love her.”

“No!  No, I will not allow it.”  Flint stepped forward, bristling.  “You will leave, Captain Kirk.  You will all leave, and Rayna will stay here.  With me.”

Spock stood rooted to the concrete, watching the horrific scene, unable to move for the sudden rage that overtook him.  He was wholly unfamiliar with such powerful emotions and it set him off balance.  It built up and spread like a thing alive, drawing his shoulders tight, pressing on his chest and making it difficult to breathe.  It was rage over Jim’s distress, rage over the deception Flint had so willfully played, and rage over....  

Over what?  Kirk’s attention to the girl?  Surely not. 

He had seen his Captain through many relationships, listening calmly when he was at the peak of elation over the newest, most beautiful conquest, and listening objectively when he was in the throes of sorrow over a love finally finished.  No other relationship had elicited this response in Spock.

But Jim had never fallen so hard and so fast, as he had for Rayna.  And never so completely.  

Even his love for Edith had taken weeks to grow, and it had been tempered and reserved by his stress over finding McCoy safe and alive.  This love that had developed over Flint’s creation was beyond Spock’s experience with his captain.  

He felt McCoy at his side, leaning into him.  Whether or not the doctor expected him to take some sort of action, he could not tell.  It was irrelevant anyway, as he could not and would not interfere with Kirk’s personal feelings.  He had promised himself long ago that he would bear up under Kirk’s passion for affairs of the heart and never ever let the man know how it pained him to see it.  So, he forced the rage back, trapping it under his iron Vulcan control.  No one would profit by his distraction over inconsequential emotions at this juncture.

“You used me…from the beginning you used me!” Kirk cried out.  

He lunged suddenly at Flint’s throat issuing a primitive yell

Spock caught at Kirk’s elbow and held him in an iron grip.  “Your primitive impulses will not alter the circumstances, Captain.”

Kirk glared up at Spock.  “Stay out of this, Spock.  We’re fighting over a woman.”

Spock felt his chest tighten.  His heart nearly broke at the anguish in Jim’s voice.  He could see the depth of agony and despair on his face.  He released Kirk’s arm, stung by the emotional barrage.

“No, you are not,” he said quietly, “for she is not.”

Kirk cringed at Spock’s bald words and wrenched his arm away just as Flint countered his attack.

Spock glanced at the girl.  She was huddled in the doorway.  Terror, anger, love, fear, desire; a thousand emotions played across her features, flowing over her like a raging river.  He could see the fine tremble in her hands, the confusion in her eyes.  Whatever Flint may have intended for her, she was becoming human now; and she was losing what little control she may have had over the rush of emotion that was overwhelming her.

The battle that ensued was short-lived and one sided.  Flint was the stronger and even Kirk’s passion could not get the upper hand, as Flint was fighting with the same passion. His opponent repeatedly tossed Kirk aside like he was no more than a willful child challenging his betters. 

“Gentlemen, I urge you to stop.  There is a danger.”  Spock tried to gain the men’s attention, but they ignored his warming.  Rayna was shaking now.  He could see the shock to her system encroaching fast.  She would not last long.

 “I cannot be the cause of this!” Rayna suddenly cried out.  “I will not be the cause of this!”  She lurched forward a step.  Spock felt McCoy stir at his side, but placed a discreet restraining hand on the doctor’s arm.  

“Stop.”  Rayna beseeched the fighters.  “Please, stop!”

The Captain was distracted for a moment by her outcry and Flint took the advantage and toppled the younger man.

“I will choose!” Rayna forced the words out.  “I will…choose.”  

“Rayna!” Flint barked.

“NO!” Rayna snapped back.  “Do not order me!  No one can…order me.”

Kirk picked himself off the floor and went to her.  But he could not see the difficulty she was having.  His face was all rapture and vengeance as he turned on Flint.  “She’s human!  Down to the last blood cell; she’s human.  The heart that beats is human.  The mind that thinks—that _chooses_ —is human.  You cannot own that!” He turned to Rayna,

“Come with me.  Leave all this behind and come with me to the Enterprise!”

 Kirk’s voice was pleading.  In all the time that Spock had known him, Kirk had never begged another being for anything.  He was a man who took what he wanted and left behind what he could not possess.  The rage inside Spock flared behind his mental controls and died as he extinguished it beneath the logic that Kirk had finally found the thing that he could not possess, but neither could he live without.

“Stay, please,” Flint countered quietly.

Both men’s pleas were genuine and heartfelt.  Rayna looked from one to the other, a thousand versions of love conflicting on her face.  Her eyes were bright.  “I…was not…human.  But now, I love.  I…love.”

Rayna collapsed.  Spock steeled himself.  Shock and fear rolled off of Jim, crashing against Spock’s mental shields as Jim watched her fall and for a moment was frozen by incomprehension.  He knelt by her.  

Flint came to her head, picked it up off the floor and cradled it against his chest.  “Rayna, you can’t die!”

McCoy went to her slowly.  He did not need more proof that the girl was dead.  For the sake of the record he knelt by her and felt for a pulse.  He looked up at Jim, but could not hold that tortured gaze for long, and shook his head.

Kirk turned his gaze on Spock, who nearly buckled beneath the force of it.  “What happened?”

“She loved you, Captain,” he nodded to Flint, “and you, Mr. Flint; as a mentor, perhaps even a father.  There was not enough time for her to adjust to the awful power and contradictions of her newfound emotions.  She did not wish to hurt either of you.”  Spock’s voice became uncharacteristically soft, “The joys of love made her human.  The agonies of love destroyed her.”

Kirk stared up at Spock, bereft, unable to do more than nod.

“Then there is nothing left,” Flint whispered hoarsely.  He pulled Rayna to him, gathered her body in his arms and lifted her effortlessly.  He carried her to an empty table a midst her predecessors and laid her gently down. 

“I cannot create her again.  I cannot bear the pain.”  He bowed his head and pressed his face to her lifeless hands.  His shoulders shook with barely restrained sobs.  “Please, leave me.”

Kirk did not move.  He sat on his knees on the floor, staring out into nothingness.  Spock moved to his side.

“Captain, we should return to the ship.  We have less than an hour to administer the Reitalin.”

Kirk nodded mutely, but still did not rise.   Spock laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezed gently, willing him to rise.  Kirk tipped his head back and looked up at Spock.  Spock felt the despair like a blade between his ribs.  He grappled for a moment, pushed to the edge of consciousness by the force of the emotion.  It was beyond the realms of logic that Spock should leave himself so open and vulnerable to such fits of human emotion; but he could never bring himself to close Kirk off as he knew someday he must in order to maintain his own balance.

“Yes, Spock.”  Kirk pulled himself off the floor and slowly came to his feet. 

Spock could see and feel the walls rebuilding as Jim straightened and squared up his shoulders, it was like watching him put on a suit of armor.

“Doctor, the Reitalin.”

McCoy eyed Kirk warily and reached out for the medicine on the table. He tucked it securely against him and went to stand by the other two.  Spock took out his communicator.

“Mr. Scott, three to beam up immediately.”

As the transporter beam sheathed them in crystalline light, Jim turned his face to Spock, and he could have sworn he saw tears in the Captain’s eyes.

——

Spock stood outside Jim’s door.  He did not step close enough to activate the sensors for admittance to the Captain’s quarters.  Instead, he stood in the corridor, his hands linked behind his back, wrestling with his own unruly emotions.  The last three days had been harrowing.  McCoy had begun immediate injections of the Reitalin and most of the crew was on the mend.  Jim had been a ghost, going between the bridge and his quarters like a man locked in a nightmare dream that he could not escape.  Jim’s usual course after the death of an affair was to engage in an inordinate amount of activity.  His past dealings with stress usually involved exceedingly long hours on bridge duty, exhausting bouts in the gym, and vicious games of chess with his first officer.  

He had taken part in none of these usual activities this time, and that worried Spock. He had not approached Spock once during the last three days.  In fact, he had nearly gone to extraordinary lengths to avoid him.

Spock himself had been lost to a deluge of unfamiliar sensations brought on by Kirk’s avoidance of his presence.  He had never before been bothered by his Captain’s erratic moods, and when he had experienced any instability, an hour’s worth of meditation usually cured him.  His meditation had done nothing to alleviate his stress.  His only recourse was to face the cause of it.

He stepped up to the door.  

“Come.”

Spock entered Kirk’s quarters slowly.  The light levels were lower than usual.  Kirk was sitting at his desk staring out at nothing as he had been so inclined to do of late.

“Captain, the Reitalin has had the desired effect on the crew, and the epidemic is contained.  We are on course to Altillis 5 per your orders,” Spock reported.

Kirk cast a sidelong look at his first officer.  Spock felt something strike at him, but he could not put a name to it.  The pain in Kirk’s eyes was unfathomable and Spock could not understand why it only intensified in his presence.

“And?  There is something else, Commander?”

Spock flinched.  Kirk did not use his title…ever.

“I was only pondering our host, Captain.  I feel regret that he was not able to achieve his goals.  A life of loneliness is truly the greatest pain to suffer.”

And there is was again, that intense stab of—something.  It crossed Kirk’s features in less than a second, his whole soul laid bare in his eyes.  But the door snapped shut before Spock could grasp what had caused it, or be certain of what he had seen

Kirk sighed and stared down at his hands, folded on his desk before him.  “A very old and lonely man.  And a young and lonely man.”  His glance flickered to Spock briefly, shuttered tightly this time, the ghost of a twisted smile coming to his lips.  “We put on a pretty poor show, didn’t we, Mr. Spock?”

The smile turned into a grimace and faded faster than it had appeared.  Spock stiffened in an effort to control the urge to go to Kirk and comfort him somehow, in some way.  Kirk’s head fell forward onto his folded hands, 

“If only I could forget.”

The words were caught between a sob and a plea.

Spock made to go to Kirk’s side when the door whispered open again to admit McCoy.

“Jim—” McCoy began, but was cut off by Spock’s raised hand.  He glanced over at the desk.  “Oh, thank heaven, sleeping at last.”

Spock concealed his annoyance at the interruption both to himself and the Captain’s rest.  “Your report, Doctor.”

 “Oh, I was just going to brief him on what we had discussed earlier, but I guess you can tell him later.  It’s certainly not important enough to wake him over since he’s finally able to get some rest.”  

McCoy loitered at the door.  

“You know, Spock, I think he really loved her.”

Spock felt his back stiffen.  “He has loved many, Doctor.”

McCoy nodded.  “Yes, that’s true.  Very true.  But she was…I don’t know how to describe it, Mr. Spock.  She was the perfect woman; educated, refined, beautiful, graceful.”

Spock writhed silently.  “You do not need to recount her many qualities, Doctor.  I am aware of them.”

“Really?  Were you, Spock?  You seemed to be the only one of us not taken by her.”

“Doctor, need I remind you that I am not susceptible to your human inclinations toward infatuation.”  Spock raised a scornful eyebrow at McCoy.

“Well, that was no infatuation that Jim fell into.  Spock, we _humans_ call that love.  But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Spock graced the Doctor with a scathing look.

McCoy smiled sadly, crossing his arms, he gazed up at Spock.  “You will never know what love can do to a man, how it can tear him apart, or heal him completely.  You’ll never _feel_ that desperation that drives men to the edge of sanity, hangs them over a cliff’s edge and then sends them soaring on wings of ecstasy.  No, Mr. Spock, you’ll never know any of that—all because the word _love_ isn’t written into your book.”

McCoy glanced at Spock as he turned to leave, and was forced to pause.  He saw—something—there in that iron clad façade that he could not remember seeing before.  Spock did not respond to his taunting, only continued to gaze at Kirk’s sleeping form.

“Good night, Spock.”

“Good night, Doctor.”

McCoy turned just before he left, turning sympathetic eyes on Jim’s slumped form.  “I do wish he could forget her.”  
Spock stared at the closed door for a few moments.

_You wouldn’t understand that, would you Spock?  Simply because the word “love” isn’t written in your book._

McCoy’s words echoed in his skull.  He moved to Jim’s side, raising a hand and placing long fingers at his Captain’s temple, cheek, and jaw.  He crouched there for a moment with his fingertips hovering a hairsbreadth above the skin.

_Ah, but it is, Doctor.  It is written._

He touched Jim’s face.

The tide that flowed over him was uncontrolled and mad with grief.  Spock’s heart twisted and his insides clenched at the power of raw emotion that welled up from Jim’s soul.  He nearly drowned in it.  There in that moment, nearly gave himself over to it.  He felt battered and worn in less than a moment.  How had Jim held up under this through the last three days?  How could any man?

Spock bolstered himself a moment, sought his bearings and then let the tide pull him down.

Down deep, he sank, deep into the recesses of Jim’s mind, where he kept the memories that he could not afford to look at and keep his sanity, but could not give up for fear of losing himself.

_Jim._

_Spock?_

_Yes, Jim.  I am here._

_NO.  No, Spock…please…go…._

Spock heard the tears in Jim’s voice.  He felt the most horrible, desperate loneliness wash over him in great unending waves.  Jim struggled within the meld, trying to force Spock back, but he was not strong enough.  Spock held him, reaching around him within the meld, enveloping him in cool, crystal blue.  Physically, Spock reached around Jim’s trembling shoulders and pulled him against his chest.

_I will not leave you, Jim._

_Spock…Spock, how I have betrayed you!_

Spock jolted slightly in the meld.  He felt a damp warmth on his shoulder and realized that Jim was weeping.  His iron control slipped a notch.  He fought for balance.

_Jim, you have not betrayed me.  Why would you think such a thing?_

_I loved her.  I_ truly _loved her, Spock.  But how could I?  How could I!_   Jim’s pain howled through the meld.  Spock leaned into it, holding against the mental storm.  Jim was writhing now in some personal hell he had created for himself.  Spock could not understand his torment.   He grasped Jim’s mind, trying to hold it as he thrashed and forced his way to consciousness.

“Spock!”  Jim gasped.

Spock reeled as he lost the connection and was thrust out of the meld.  He placed a hand on the desk to steady himself and looked up at Jim, who had thrown himself from the chair and was backed up against the dividing wall between his general quarters and the sleeping alcove.  He pressed his palms flat on the desk and rose slowly, fighting the blackness of the sudden mental break.  He reached out a hand and grasped Jim’s upper arm in a grip that the other could not break.

Jim jerked in Spock’s hold, feeling the other’s touch telepathy drawing him under again.  He cringed away and fought to stay conscious.

Spock was stunned, burned, his own mind reeling still at the mental anguish that was pouring off of Jim.  This could not be because of Rayna.  No woman alive had the power to do this to Jim Kirk, no matter the depth of his love for her.

“What is it, Jim?”  Spock’s voice was rough with his own concealed emotion.  “What has done this to you?”

Jim stared into Spock’s eyes for one eternal moment, and then went limp.  All of the fight went out of him, every shred of resistance drained away.  He stood before Spock, his head bowed, eyes burning with unshed tears.

“You.”

Spock’s body went numb.  His grip on Jim’s arm loosened and failed.  He stepped back and stumbled against the desk chair, could not maintain his footing, and slumped into it.

“I—I have done this.” 

Jim pulled his arms in, crossing them over his stomach.  “Spock, how could I come so close to giving you up…for her?”  He doubled over, as though in pain, and sank against the wall.

Spock could think of nothing to say.  He did not dare believe what he thought he was hearing.  Jim was not tormented by his lost love for Rayna…but by the threat of losing his love for Spock because of her.  He stared at the top of that golden head in awe and wonder.

“You just stood there, Spock,” Jim began haltingly.  “You just stood there with that blank look on your face, your eyes so full of pain—pain that I didn’t see!  Until it was too late.  Gods, Spock, I can’t believe I did that to you, forced you to watch such a farce while I lost my mind and heart to her.”

“But…I have seen you lose them so many times before.  This was no different.”  Spock said the words, believed them on the surface, but underneath he knew it was a lie.  He had felt the rage, hadn’t he?  He had labeled it in Jim’s honor.  But had it really been rage for Jim’s pain at Flint’s hands, or had it been rage over his own pain at the hands of the man that he had served, honored, trusted…loved?

Jim looked up, his eyes burning.  “Is that true, Spock?  Is it really true?”  He came forward on his knees, sitting at the Vulcan’s feet.  “I have had a hundred women, but we both knew that each and every one of them meant nothing!”

“Edith…” Spock breathed the name.  His blood was on fire.

“She was as near to love as I have ever reached, but we both knew how it was fated to end.  I knew it would end, but _you_ would still be there.  I would still have you!  I lost myself to Rayna, and I almost gave away with both hands what I have treasured most in all of my life.  Spock!  You—I could not live without you!”

Spock reached forward compulsively and grasped Jim by the back of the neck, dragged him forward between his thighs and crushed him to his chest.  He felt Jim’s arms reach around him and return the embrace.  Spock soothed the shoulders now shaking with silent, convulsive sobs, and brushed golden waves through his long fingers.  He crooned to Jim, softly comforting him.  His own heart swelled to bursting.  He did not give credence to emotion of any nature, but what he felt now, he could only recognize as the keenest love he had ever known for another being.

Jim turned his face up to Spock’s.  Piercing, vibrant blue, met deep, warm earthen brown and the time and space between became nonexistent.

Spock had never imagined Jim’s mouth would be so yielding.  In a man who was born to command, who wielded control of every situation he encountered, Spock would have expected as much in his kiss.  But Jim’s mouth was warm, soft, giving at the slightest pressure and guidance from Spock’s tongue.  He pressed further, delving into Jim’s mouth, caressing his tongue with long, slow strokes.  Jim trembled beneath him and he reached to cradle Jim’s head in one hand and support him around the shoulders with a strong, wiry arm.  Instinctively, he scooted forward on the chair, pressing himself against Jim’s chest.  Jim groaned against Spock’s lips and pressed back.  Spock felt Jim’s hands move up underneath his uniform shirt and dig into rock hard back muscles, making him shiver.

“Jim….”Spock breathed his name in reverence against their pressed lips.

“Spock.”  Jim worked his hands around to the front, kneading Spock’s hardened nipples beneath his thumbs.  He gasped and pressed harder against Jim.  Jim’s hands traveled downward, grasping the narrow hips and pulling them forward until the rock hard ridge of Spock’s engorged flesh was pressed into Jim’s soft belly.  Spock threw his head back and gasped something forceful in Vulcan.  Jim took advantage and pulled open Spock’s fly and slipped his hand inside, wrapping his fingers firmly around Spock’s swollen shaft.

Spock could feel the cool fingers around his flesh, squeezing, gently at first, but with increasing pressure.   He fought for breath.  His blood was heating toward critical.  If he lost control now…he could so easily damage Jim’s fragile human body.  He grasped Jim’s shoulders firmly and set him away.  Standing, he dragged Jim with him around the wall and into the sleeping alcove.  He pushed Jim gently onto the bed and stripped.  Jim eagerly mimicked him and in a moment sat completely naked before Spock’s eyes.  

Spock’s gaze traveled up and down the bronzed, compact, muscled form, noting Jim’s extreme erection with undeniable pleasure.  He placed a hand on Jim’s shoulder and with only the slightest pressure, urged him to lie face down on the bed.  He planted a knee between Jim’s thighs and pressed them slightly apart.  He reached down and stroked Jim’s balls gently, squeezing them lightly until Jim was panting with the effort to keep himself from coming.  Spock felt his own cock harden at Jim’s quickened breath and he dribbled hot cum onto the small of Jim’s back, eliciting a sharp groan as it slipped down between his buttocks.  Spock followed the slick trail with a finger and found Jim’s tight opening and pressed against it with one probing finger and then two, gently relaxing the tight muscles.

“Spock, please!” Jim begged.  He was rocking back against Spock’s hand and grasping his own swollen cock fiercely, trying to belay the building orgasm.  Spock covered Jim’s hand with his own, beginning a slow, even rhythm.  He lowered himself over Jim’s buttocks, pressing only gently until Jim rocked back in desperation and speared himself on Spock’s engorged flesh.  Spock bit back a groan and involuntarily thrust forward.  Jim cried out in sweet agony, but pressed even further onto Spock’s shaft.

Spock locked an arm around Jim’s waist, lifted him to a better angle and began a slow thrusting.  Jim gasped with every movement.  Spock squeezed Jim’s cock harder and harder, stroking it in rhythm with his own powerful thrusts.  He wet his fingers on Jim’s cum and slicked the stroking.

“Jim, I am…going to come...now.”  Spock ground himself against Jim’s buttocks, driving hard.  He felt Jim’s cock throb once, twice fiercely, and Jim cried out as he gave himself over to the orgasm and jetted cum onto the bed sheets.  Spock’s own orgasm came as a last great swelling and lengthening before the throbbing took him and he came inside Jim, thrusting so deep and hard that Jim came again in Spock’s hand in response to the Vulcan’s own ecstasy.

Jim’s body went completely limp, hanging over Spock’s arm like a rag doll.  Spock worked the arm up to Jim’s chest and pulled him back against his own chest letting Jim sit on his thighs and relax back against him.  Spock pulled Jim’s head back against his shoulder and nestled it beneath his chin.  Jim breathed out on a sigh settled back into Spock’s arms.

“Am I forgiven?” Jim asked in a whisper.

“There was nothing to forgive, T’hyl’a,” Spock soothed.  He twisted to the side, and without disengaging or letting go of Jim, he lowered them both down to the bed.  He pulled a coverlet over them and wrapped his arm more firmly around Jim.  

Jim shook his head tiredly against Spock’s shoulder.  “There is so much, Spock.  I have wronged you in so many ways.  Why you have ever stayed by my side, I cannot say.”

“Hush, Jim.  I have stayed where I belong.”  He ran a gentle hand through Jim’s hair.  “No human has touched me as you have.  None have ever reached as deeply as you have, forcing me to look at my feelings, acknowledge them…even act on them.”

Jim heard the faint smile in Spock’s voice on the last words.  “We have taken a long time to get here.”

“Indeed.”

“Spock, what I said before, I meant every word.  I can’t conceive of my life without you in it now.”  He rolled in Spock’s arms and looked into his eyes.  “You are all there is.”

He stroked Spock’s cheek and raised his fingers to trace the delicate upswept curve of those beautiful ears.  Spock turned into the stroke.  His whole body shivered in response.  His chest ached.  He felt a dampness on his cheeks and realized with a small jolt that it was tears.  He had not cried since he was small boy in his mother’s arms.  Now, he shed the tears silently, out of joy instead of sorrow.

“Spock?” Jim’s voice was wary.

Spock opened his eyes and gazed down at his Captain, his love, _his_ Jim.

“Yes, Jim?”

Jim did not speak, but touched a fingertip to the tear that tracked over that imperious cheekbone.  Spock took the fingertip in his hands and pressed it to his lips.  The tension in Jim’s fingers abated and Spock absently rubbed the center of his palm with his thumb.  Jim’s eyes drifted closed and his hand went limp in Spock’s.

“You are mine, Jim.  I claim you for now and all time,” Spock murmured on a breath.  He reached up and stroked Jim’s temple, sliding easily into the man’s now quiet mind.

_Yes, Spock.  I am yours._   Jim’s mental voice was like the soft sunlight of dawn spilling slowly over the cold misted mountains.  Spock felt the warmth flow through his own cool mind, climbing the mental barriers that had been years in the making, finding every crack and crevice and pouring through like water finding its path through stone.

_As I am yours, T’hyl’a._   Spock felt Jim’s smile through the meld.  He wrapped himself around Jim’s mind once again, holding it to him like a jewel beyond price.  _We are one._

Jim wrapped an arm around Spock’s waist, pulled in as close as he could and sighed as he let himself lose consciousness, cradled against Spock’s hard body and wrapped in the infinite strength of his mind.

Spock eased himself to a higher level of Jim’s mind, listened to the breath going in and out of his lungs, listened to the beat of his heart as it slowed in sleep, listened to the murmur of memories deep in his mind that no longer tormented, but rather comforted and reminded.  He soothed a thumb over Jim’s brow, smoothing out the last creases of concentration and worry and very gently placed a kiss there.  He nestled his chin back atop the golden head and closed his eyes, sleeping, at last, in peace.

 


End file.
